


Dopamine Fiends

by synergenic (Losseflame)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, I write things for plot sometimes I swear, That is It, literally Sasha going down on Connie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:38:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losseflame/pseuds/synergenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a vagina,” Sasha says, sounding vaguely confused and Connie grits his teeth, shifts his hips away slightly because he’s fucked it up, hasn’t he, he got too into it and now he’s fucked it up –</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Connie mutters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dopamine Fiends

“This is a vagina,” Sasha says, sounding vaguely confused and Connie grits his teeth, shifts his hips away slightly because he’s fucked it up, hasn’t he, he got too into it and now he’s fucked it up –

“Yeah,” Connie mutters, Sasha’s fingers curling reflexively against said vagina and sending a spiral of heat and a slow-churn of self-loathing against his ribs. “Sorry, fuck, sorry –”

“But you’re a guy,” Sasha continues as if he hasn’t said anything, her hand still down his pants and her shirt all stretched and pushed up under her arms and she’s so beautiful Connie _aches_ with it and he’s. Fucked. It. Up. “But you have a vagina.”

Connie waits for the inevitable disgust to rise in her voice, but instead it just remains a steady plod, Sasha’s hand on his cunt and her eyes on his face.

“Yeah,” Connie repeats. He grabs her wrist, starts to extract it from his crotch area. “Sorry, I should have told you, I just – I’m sorry –”

“Why are you sorry?” Sasha asks, slow to remove her hand from his pants. She doesn’t give him any room to scramble backward, stays pressed up close to him and Connie lets himself feel a little spark of hope, now.

“I didn’t tell you,” he mumbles. Sasha shrugs. It makes her tits heave and despite himself he can’t stop his eyes from latching firmly onto that movement.

He’s a horny teenager. Sue him.

“It’s…probably a hard subject to bring up?” she says, voice arching to make the phrase a question. Connie nods, keeps avoiding eye contact till Sasha grips his chin and raises his face. “But you’re a guy,” she states, eyes searching his for confirmation.

And it probably isn’t that big of a deal to her, what she’s giving him in that phrase – they’re both hot for Mikasa, so it isn’t as if his genitals are necessarily a _problem_ – but –

But it is. A big deal.

“Yeah, I am,” Connie says, and to his horror his voice breaks, a hot prick behind his eyes and he screws them shut, clapping his hands over his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry for having a vagina,” Sasha informs him, as if that’s the problem at hand here. He laughs wetly, and she kisses his left cheek and then his right, tilting her head to brush his face with her eyelashes in something she calls _butterfly kisses_ because Sasha is weird as fuck.

They stay like that for a bit, Sasha leaning him up against a wall and Connie’s hands eventually curling around her waist, marvelling at how goddamn much he _loves_ her.

“I love you,” he tells her, because she – she still sees him as a guy when Reiner had to beat the shit out of half the male barracks to stop them from calling Connie ‘dyke’ at any given opportunity, and it’s fucked up that that’s something that Connie has to be grateful for but he is. Grateful for it. In love with her.

“I love you too,” Sasha replies, and then she drops to her knees. “But I was kind of planning on going down on you today and I get it if that’s off the menu but I _really wouldn’t mind_ –”

“It’s fine,” Connie says, strangled, “I mean, if you want to, I don’t want –”

“No, I do, I just don’t want to make you –”

“It’s fine,” Connie repeats, curling his hands in her greasy-ass hair and watching her smile up at him fondly, “If it’s fine with you.”

“Awesome,” Sasha beams, and then she shoves her face in his crotch, breathing over his cunt and nuzzling it.

“Fu – _uck_ ,” Connie grunts, because that’s a hell of a way to get started. Sasha hums appreciatively, pulling back.

“I like the noises you make,” she informs him, before she eases his pants off his hips, cards her fingers through his pubic hair. And Connie’s always had – _issues_ , getting off, especially on his own, but when Sasha angles her head between his thighs to kiss at his lips, presses one thumb hard against his clit, the surge of disgust at his own body is notably absent, swept away by the hot bolt of pleasure singing up his spine.

He breathes out in a hard gasp, and this time when Sasha hums her appreciation, Connie can feel it in his _toes_. “Please,” he whispers, scratches his nails on her scalp.

“Yeah,” Sasha murmurs against him, before using her mouth to open him up, licking inside gracelessly and tonging at the inner walls of his cunt. He can _hear_ her, see his slick trailing down her chin and that more than the feeling of her working him over is what makes his hips jerk. She pulls at his clit with her lips, works a hand between his thighs and fits two fingers into him, and he’s tight enough that that _stretches_ , sends a hot pain-pleasure ache through him.

“Oh _God_ ,” he bites out, hand yanking her hair instinctually and because Sasha is perfect that seems to work for her, a little whine of her own making its way inside of him. Her other hand trails up his hip, under his shirt, and she spends a moment tracing over the bumps of his ribcage before she reaches higher.

Her fingertips catch on the edge of his binding, and accepting one part of his stupid mistake of a body during sex is fine, Connie thinks, but not both. He flinches back, something dark and rotten blooming in his gut and Sasha moves her hand, makes soothing noises against him, kisses his cunt open-mouthed.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Okay, c’mon –” And then she licks at his clit, tonging him until Connie is dizzy and breathless and the surge of dysphoria is lost to the hot flow of pleasure in his blood. Something _clenches_ between his hips, something that spreads shaky and good through his limbs, and Connie’s wrist twists in her hair without his permission.

“Fuck,” he babbles, “Fuck, Sasha, I think – oh – fuck, I think –”

It’s hard to get words out through the twisting lust spiralling round his bones, tripping up his tongue, but Sasha seems to get the idea, nodding and adjusting her grip on his hips, jutting her chin out and licking up into him, circling his clit with two fingers and he’s so sensitive it almost _hurts_ , each brush sending a sharp pulse that reverberates through him, makes his hips stutter.

“I’m gonna –” he gasps, and almost yells when Sasha _pulls back_ , what the _fuck_.

“ _Show_ me, buttface, don’t _tell_ me.” Then she buries her face between his thighs again, lapping at him and dragging her tongue to his clit. She gives it a good, slow lick, and then the heat inside him shudders and tightens before it goes ablaze, spreading through him like the forest fire she’d told him about once.

And now he does yell, his voice breaking as he judders, hips gyrating and Sasha keeps at him through it all, keeps working her fingers in and out and licking at his clit until Connie is _whimpering_ , pushing her back with shaking hands.

She rocks back on her heels with a hideously smug expression on her face, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as Connie slides down the wall, boneless. He meets her eyes and she grins a shit-eating grin, waggling her eyebrows at him.

“Shut the fuck _up_ ,” Connie sighs, and Sasha laughs, tossing herself down to pillow her head in his lap. Belatedly, Connie realizes that he in no way reciprocated. “D’you want me to…” he waves his hand over her crotch vaguely.

Sasha opens her eyes, clear and frank as she gazes up at him. “Would you be comfortable with that?”

And something hot swells in his throat then, at how she’s asking, something that makes Connie have to swallow a few times before he can answer. “Um. Yeah. Yeah. …Maybe”

She smiles, and it’s a star going supernova to him, sunlight and warmth and beauty. “Don’t worry about it,” she hums, turns her head and kisses his thigh. “We’ll do thing at your pace, man.”

And she says that last word so _easily_.


End file.
